


Draconis Caritate

by Squeemish



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Gore, Dragon AU, Dragon Garak, Fantasy, Fluff, Gen, If dragons have the word furry but for ones who are really into humans, Jadzia and Julian bromance, Julian is very much a scalie in chapter 2, M/M, Mild Gore, Prince Julian, and Julian is just a classic hardcore scalie I guess, chapter 2 has mentions of gore, royal au, that's what Garak is here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-20 22:04:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16563977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeemish/pseuds/Squeemish
Summary: “Woah!” Julian leaped to evade the swing of a tail, hands held behind his back in the most suspicious way. “Watch it- Garak!”“There’s no use in pretending, your Highness,” Garak sniffed the air obscenely, “Where is it?”___Prince Julian pays a visit to his dear friend Garak, who is an insufferable, love-sick dragon.





	1. Chapter 1

He could smell it.

Rich and sweet, with just a hint of spice…

 _Chocolate_.

“Woah!” Julian leaped to evade the swing of a tail, hands held behind his back in the most suspicious way. “Watch it- _Garak_!”

“There’s no use in pretending, your Highness,” Garak sniffed the air obscenely, “Where is it?”

“Where’s what- _Eugh_!” Garak pushed his snout to sniff around the now giggling prince’s neck, and peeked over his shoulder.

Nothing. Empty hands, clasped together in a deliberate ruse.

Garak backed off, glaring. Julian grinned, flushed as he rubbed his neck where Garak had brushed past.

“Would you please behave for a second?”

“Hmpf.” Garak retreated back into his lushious nest of silks, taftans and wool, head held high in offence.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Julian’s smile widened, long lashes fluttering as he stepped over Garak’s tail. He leaned on Garak’s chest, palms and cheek pressed to it in a hug of sorts.

“Hello, you.” He whispered and scratched at the scales, _deliciously_ , and Garak rumbled, the tip of his tail curling.

“ _Hmm_.”

“Aren’t you grumpy today.”

“And you are devious.”

“Only because you are impatient.”

“I should’ve eaten you,” Garak tapped Julian’s golden belt with one, black claw, as big as the prince’s hand, “Such trouble for a human, and all it does is cruelly tease with promises of treats.”

“You still can,” Julian took a step back and arched his brow, a gesture given to the lack of a sword on his hip, “I could hardly stop you at the moment.”

“But this new uniform is so lovely! It would be a shame to ruin it, just because the creature inside it is an infuriating pest.”

Julian rocked on his feet, beaming at the compliment, seemingly resisting the urge to twirl. Garak wouldn’t have minded; the uniform was lovely, pearly white with golden buttons and accents, perfectly tailored. Speckles of gold adorned Julian’s cheekbones too, a darker colour carefully blended under to highlight their shape, brows and lashes blackened.

A carefully constructed spectacle, and even though Garak could see the intent behind the decor, his heart still sank with Julian’s next words.

“There was a reason for my visit, besides the joy of it.” Julian admitted at last. Of course. Garak hid the slight hurt with a smile.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else. So, what is it that the dreadful council wishes of me today?”

Julian whistled. The sound of heavy hooves on marble echoed through the castle. A horse, with large saddlebags, peeked solemnly into the hall, ears down. Julian ran to the beast, speaking softly.

“Good boy.” He petted the horse and reached into the bags. Garak leaned forward, sniffing, which the less imposing beast didn't appreciate.

 _Finally_.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Julian wagged his finger and pulled out a scroll with a broken seal.

“This first. Alright?” Grudgingly Garak agreed, and waited for Julian to unroll the no doubt important document.

Julian made himself comfortable on a large pillow, _his_ pillow, as the prince often claimed, even though it clearly resided in Garak’s castle. All the while they worked, Garak took every opportunity to look at _his_ prince, named such for simply lazing on _his_ pillow while idly petting _his_ tail. Mostly he looked at the deep frown that furrowed his prince’s brow, much deeper than it had been when they’d last met, only three short years ago. War had such effect on the young.

It took them two hours to decode the message; Julian had grabbed ink and a quill from the horse before the creature fled, and wrote down the code as Garak deciphered it, his handwriting unbefitting royalty. With a dramatic sweep to the last letter, Julian finished the sentence and gently blew on the wet ink. He then winked at Garak and stood, the scroll neatly packed into the bag, from which he pulled several packages, wrapped in brown paper.

“There you go.” Julian placed the pile of chocolate on the broken piece of pillar which Garak used as a kind of a table, and turned to him with a quirked lip and a bow.

“The council thanks you for your service.”

“As they well should.” Garak sliced the paper open and pierced one huge muffin with his claw. He licked it off in one piece, and let its richness melt on his tongue. Hmm. They’d used Delavian chocolate. My, my. He cleaned the crumbs off with delicate and precise licks, then narrowed his eyes at Julian.

“But know that I consider this bribery.” No shame on Julian’s face as he shrugged, eyes half lidded.

“Whatever works.” He said and walked toward Garak, a distracting sway to his hips. His hand brushed down Garak’s neck, his voice a warm susurrus against the scales there.

“I do have the whole day off.”

“Truly? And how is a prince allowed so long in the midst of war?“

“The prince knows a dragon who is to respected, or else they might be offended and not help at all. Perhaps even eat the prince, and the council wouldn’t want that.”

“It is indeed a danger.” Garak said softly. Reluctantly leaving the embrace, he padded to the nest, fluffing the middle of it a little. Humans were such delicate beings, requiring comfort and coddling. As he did this, Julian removed his boots and the jacket, both laid on the side of the heap of fabrics. Garak eyed the white cloth, how the shimmer of it fit in so well with the silks…

“You can't have it, Mr. Garak.” Julian said with stern amusement, a pointed look shot from under his brows as he unbuttoned his shirt, gaze glimmering. “And I shan’t leave without it.”

How being naked and never leaving could be seen as a threat, Garak didn't understand, but he focused his admiring eyes from the shiny white and gold to Julian, who’d finished dressing down to a plain top and breeches.  

Julian sunk into the sea of cloth with a happy hum. He then grinned at Garak, and gave his stomach an inviting pat. Garak obediently lowered his head to rest on it and nuzzled, tongue stretched to leisurely lick at Julian’s neck and throat. A bit of squirming and laughter ensued as Julian kicked his slim legs on either side of Garak’s neck, his hand playfully pushing against the snout.

“You’re such a vile thing.” He laughed, then sighed, allowing the cleanup to commence uninterrupted. Soon Garak moved to his face, happily rubbing against a soft cheek while Julian groaned, eyes squeezed shut, nose wrinkled and lips held tight to keep in the laughter. One careless lick made Garak recoil and shake his head in disgust, the dusty taste of makeup dry on his tongue. Julian cackled, and wiped his face on a piece of cotton under his head, staining it with gold.

Garak cleaned his poor tongue by sweeping it over Julian’s neck again, the sweat there far tastier.

”Don’t suppose you’d like to kidnap me again?” Julian said, petting Garak’s snout with a solemn note in his voice. Garak ceased his licks and yawned, eyes falling shut.

“I fear your parents and the fearsome council might disapprove.”

“Maybe. But I miss this,” He sighed again, deep and weary, “It was a fun few months.”

“You hardly require a dragon to pamper you when there’s a whole castle of servants.”

“Pamper?” The gentle pets stopped, Julian’s voice raising to indignity.

“You kidnapped me!”

“Kept you warm, fed…” He flicked his tongue over Julian’s unadorned cheek, “Well groomed.”

“And I scratched you everyday for hours on end, being your pillow and polisher.” There was a pointed scratch given to a sweet spot under his jaw. Garak purred, and Julian rolled his eyes, warm with affection.

“And nevermind the sensational novels you made me read.”

Now it was Garak’s turn to be indignant, huffing hot air out of his nostrils so forcefully that Julian’s hair swayed.

“They are considered high art among dragons--” Julian scoffed.

“You like ridiculous melodrama and there’s no use in hiding it.”

Garak intended to argue further, but a kiss was laid on his snout and he found himself melting into a puddle. Julian stroked the same spot he’d so tenderly pecked, his smile growing somber.

“I envy you.”

“Why on earth would you, my dear prince?”

“Up here, in this place…” Julian eyed the arches wistfully, sighing once again, ”Free from war and other human nonsense.”

“I like some human nonsense,” Garak replied quietly, “Every now and then.”

“Delavian chocolate is quite good I suppose.” Julian looked back at Garak, smiling, ”I'll bring some more next time.”

Garak’s ears perked up.

“When?”

“At the end of the month?”

“You promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Garak could barely contain his thrumming heart at the thought of seeing his prince again so soon, already dreading the many lonely days that laid between now and then. But he’d wait. Forever and always, till the day he’d find a way to make Julian stay, and love him like princes loved other princes and princesses, who never were old, lonely dragons living in the ruins of ancient castles. Always beautiful little humans, like Julian was.

His pillow of a prince slept, chest moving in a soft rhythm. Garak watched the parted lips, and then, tender and light as a drop of rain, ran the tip of his tongue across the lower lip. Julian remained as he was, deep asleep. Garak sighed and closed his eyes with a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing escalated. Oopsie.

The wind ruffled Julian’s hair, and he laughed, heart swelling from the race. Jadzia didn’t stay behind for long, Tigan’s gallops an unbeatable force, soon taking the lead.

“Can’t you let me win at least once?” He shouted, “It would only be polite!”

“It’s ruder to try and appeal to my better nature!” Jadzia grinned over her shoulder and urged Tigan again, way ahead of him now. Julian swore, and gave Kukalaka a gentle pat.

“Come on. We can beat them.”

They didn’t. Kukalaka wasn’t far behind, but still Jadzia managed to leap off of Tigan and wait for them on a rock, as if she were a very smug patch of moss, grown there for many decades.

“Good morning, my lord.” Her lip quirked up with her brow. Julian rolled his eyes as he slid off Kukalaka, the frozen ground crispy under his feet.

“It’s off with your head one day, Captain Dax.”

“The executioner has to catch me first.” She tilted her head to gaze up at the mountain, eyes squinted in the winter light, bright even through the veil of grey clouds.

“Can I come up to meet your scaly consort?”

Julian choked on air. His feet tangled up and with a splutter he fell against Kukalaka’s side, the horse letting out an offended whine.

“ _Co_ _nsort?_ ” He said, indignant, cheeks hot as he clung to the saddle. Jadzia waggled her brows and hopped up to pull an apple from Tigan’s side bag, biting into it with glee. Julian glared and straightened, adjusting his cloak and scarf as he pet Kukalaka’s mane in apology.

“Garak is a dragon.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How can you think that any _consorting_ happens between me and _a dragon._ ”

“Last time he’d slobbered all over your neck, and your grin told a very explicit story.”

“There was no story.” Julian rummaged through his saddle bags, looking for the chocolates he’d definitely packed. Finally he found them, a little crushed, a cascade of crumbs falling from the bag when he emptied it of the chocolates. He transferred the treats to a large silk pouch, meant to carry his whetstone and tinderbox, both of which he stuffed into the saddlebag.

“He’s just affectionate,” Julian explained with a shrug, “Like a dog.”

“And now I’m glad you don’t have any dogs.” That earned Jadzia a moist bag over her face. She ripped it off, but Julian made a run toward the narrow mountain road, too far for immediate revenge. Jadzia balled up a pathetic lump of snow made of mostly dirt, and threw it at him, a tad too forcefully; it flew right over his head and hit a spiky rock instead.

“You’ll come down eventually!” Her threat echoed through the air, too far to truly intimidate.

“We’ll see!” He ran up the path, and yelled over his shoulder, “And the answer is no, by the way! You and your nonsense are staying here, far, far away from my dragon’s delicate ears.”

She might’ve given a rude gesture. Julian didn’t turn to look, climbing the steep hill with purpose. He was late. A whole month in fact. But he had a good reason, and chocolates, should the dragon need a bit of sweetening. There wasn’t any reason to worry; Even his easily offended friend would have to be happy to hear the war was over at last, an accomplishment well worth the delay.

Shivers ran down his back at the thought of seeing Garak again. Finally he could forget the blood and misery for a few blissful hours in the dragon’s nest, snuggled by the fire Garak no doubt would have going on to ward off the cold. Perhaps Julian could read to him. It had been well over a year since he had.

Breathless and cheeks numb, he reached the peak, Garak’s castle looming over him in its gothic grandiose. Actual snow had settled on its roofs, the white coating beautiful to him, but to Garak likely less so. Julian hoped none of it had fallen through the broken parts and onto his poor, easily chilled dragon.

“Garak!” He shouted, smile achingly wide as he raced inside, wet boots skidding on the marble, “I know I’m late! But I have a basket full of compensation!”

There was no answer, only his own voice echoing through the vast halls. He called out again.

“Garak? You’ve not decided to try hibernating, have you?” His steps were loud and heavy as he approached the old library, where Garak had made his nest. To his disappointment, no warm, firey glow greeted him, only a cold sliver of winter spilling from behind the half-open door, bright enough to guide him in the dark.

Julian stopped to cough, and pulled his scarf over his face; The air smelled off, like wet, rotting meat. He squinted, and in the dark saw the outline of something large, the smell getting stronger as he got nearer.

An animal. Larger than an ox and buzzing with flies, oozed only few steps away from the door. Julian’s lips curled in disgust; Garak did sometimes keep meat stored in ice during winter, but it wasn’t like him to leave a ruined one lying about. His sense of smell was much better than Julian’s as well, and usually more offended by the odour.

He moved closer and eyed the carcass, wondering what sort of creature it was. He’d only seen Garak hunt for sheep, deer and the occasional horse. Never anything this big. Maybe the poor thing had been too large of a meal even for a mighty dragon, who now lied in a stupor, too exhausted to move the leftovers. Julian scoffed and shook his head; he’d make Garak move it _immediately_ if he wanted him to cuddle and--

Scales. The carcass had scales, grey like Garak’s and similarly shaped. A pair of shredded, bloodied wings stuck out of the flesh, glued against it, a few branch like bones sticking out. They slouched in a sad arch over a pair of horns, shrouded behind rips of skin.

Julian’s heart stopped. The pouch fell from his fingers as he kneeled and reached for the horns, hands hovering down the familiar curve. A dragon, yes, but maybe not his, maybe not Garak… He touched the left horn, feeling for the chink Garak had in the root of his, from Julian’s sword, struck there years ago when they’d first met.

The walls of the familiar castle seemed to cave around him, its shadows circling him and stealing the air from his lungs. Julian’s thumb caressed the scar, trying to erase its existence. Death, he’d learned, felt like thorns growing from your bones; the first pinpricks made you gasp and cry out for comfort, for something to rip you open and take away the pain. Then, bit by bit, the body grew used to the feeling. You moved and lived, aware of the sharp needles in your flesh, yet numb enough to ignore it, healed enough to learn a new way of being. Julian had thought himself used to their occasional sting, but now, as Garak’s tacky blood stained his white suit, the thorns grew taller once more, and at last reached his heart.

He stayed kneeled on the floor, the horn held loosely in his numb hands. It would be better to move. Get away from the stench, to stop himself from recognizing more and more of the ripped parts; the wing he’d napped under, now marred and slick with blood, the soft stomach he’d leaned onto as he read, moving along with Garak’s breath.

Julian squeezed his eyes shut, throat burning. He needed to focus. Get up and… And what?  They’d never talked what dragons did with their dead. Burial wasn’t a possibility, not without help, and even with it, the frozen ground would take days to dig through. No, burial wasn’t right. Julian would burn the body. Yes. Walk back down, get some wood and burn him. Burn his Garak, his sweet, darling dragon and never again rest in his strange, scaly embrace.

A small, choked sob left Julian’s lips. He doubled over, trembling arms wrapped around his waist. The torns sunk deeper into him, tears like acid burning his eyes. Cries of pain echoed in his ears, the phantom feeling of blood dripping down his face. He blinked it away with a shake of his head. Focus. Get up and focus.

Legs shaking he went to pick up the dropped pouch, and placed the scarred horn inside. Macabre, perhaps, but he needed something to keep, to remember by.

He tied the pouch to his belt and glanced back at the body. The flesh was shapeless, maimed muscle, scales and fat that could be from a dragon, but wasn’t a whole dragon. Who or what ripped someone apart in such a cruel way? Another dragon? Or worse, a human, ignorant like Julian had been long ago, thinking themselves noble for slaying a beast. Screams filled his ears again, within them the helpless roars of a dragon, trying to get away, crawl to the safety of his nest.

Julian looked away, breathing in and out. It wouldn’t do to dwell in it. He needed to focus, keep going and stop being selfish. It was then that he noticed a trail of blood leading away from the carcass, toward the library. Julian’s brows furrowed; now that he thought of it, there hadn’t been any tracks leading outside. Meaning Garak had been attacked while in his nest, at his most vulnerable.

Anger flared from his pain. He followed the red path, and opened the door to Garak’s nest. The bright light blinded him for a blissful second, then another sting shot through him, at the sight of Garak’s beloved collection of fabrics, all covered in crimson, pieces of wet flesh and bone tainting the beautiful silks and taftans. Julian trembled as he looked at the carnage, unable to comprehend the horror of it.

He froze, hand darting to the hilt of his sword.

Beneath the spring green satin, Garak’s favourite, was the shape of a human. It was moving, the breaths heavy and rattling. Julian stared, wide eyes seeing red; rage burst in his chest, like venom out of a viper as he watched the murderer, so casually sleeping in Garak’s bed, unaware of the pain they’d caused, the heart they’d broken.

Julian drew his sword. Only monsters ripped helpless things apart. And Garak had never been one. A beast, yes, taking his share of life to keep living his own, like any human. Never more or less than that. Yet it was Garak’s body that lied lifeless and abused, peace denied from him even in death.

Julian took the hilt in both hands and lifted it high above his head. Monsters deserved to die. Just one strike and he’d rid the world of one. His arms tensed, hands squeezing the hilt as he took a breath and held it; What would the death of one more mean to his already tainted soul, when so many innocents had fallen by his hand?

Julian lowered the sword with a choked gasp. Killing someone in their sleep, even a murderer, made his stomach turn. He’d look them in the eye, the very least. Explain why they would not leave this place alive, and demand them to feel shame over their crime. Beg for his forgiveness.

With a trembling hand he reached for the cloth, grabbed a corner and yanked it aside.

Covered entirely in blood was a man. His face had raised patterns around the eyes, a spoon like shape on his forehead. Eyes wide, Julian stepped back, sword clattering to the floor.

“Garak?”

The man moved. Blue, pained eyes stared up at him, stark against the red, and blinked. And just like that, the thorns snapped off, crumbling to dust.

“Oh, Garak.” Julian fell to his knees and pulled off his cloak, wrapping it around Garak as he drew him into a tight embrace.

“It is you,” He rocked Garak gently, the relief and joy making him tremble, “And I almost…” Julian held in a sob, kissing the blooded forehead, over and over again, to drown the thought of what he’d nearly done. Garak was shaking too; The blood, though mostly dried, had to feel painfully cold in the freezing air.

“It’s alright,” Julian whispered, petting Garak’s long hair that now grew from his head, matted with dirt and blood, “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

“Come on.” He pulled away to stand, expecting Garak to as well, but the dragon hissed weakly, falling back to the bloodied fabrics.

“Garak, please, come with me,” Julian pleaded, “Your skin is like ice. You’ll freeze to death. Come on.” Garak didn’t budge, shoulders shivering and eyes dead, fixed on a bloody shard of bone.

“Can you not walk?” asked Julian quietly. There was a flicker in Garak’s eyes, of embarrassment and his tail curled around himself.

“I’ll help you,” He squeezed Garak’s arm, “You can have my legs, too. That makes four. You can do four. Now get up, and lean onto me.”

He urged Garak up again, and now he came willingly, clinging to Julian’s neck for balance. The blood stained Julian all over, the smell filling his head.

“Alright. One step at a time.”

Slowly they made their way through the castle, the old courtyard, down the mountain path. Each step made Garak tremble and moan, like he was on the verge of tears. Julian couldn't stand it, every quiet cry pulling at his heart.

“Hold onto me,” Julian said, “I’ll carry you down, just hold on.” He gave Garak no time to protest and hoisted him into his arms. Rigid as if made of wood, the dragon made a fist against Julian’s chest, clinging to the front of the jacket. Julian stumbled his way down as fast as he could with the weight of another man, breath heavy and white in the cold.

His back and arms ached by the time they reached the bottom of the mountain. Jadzia ran up to meet him, a deep frown between her brows.

“Julian, who-?” Julian passed her, going straight for Kukalaka. The horse’s nostrils flared, and with a distressed screech, he raised to his hind legs, kicking away.

“Shh, it’s okay!” Julian dropped Garak’s legs so he stood, face pressed to Julian’s neck. He held him close with one arm around the waist, offering his free hand to Kukalaka with a smile.

“Calm down. He can’t hurt you, see? He’s just like me. No danger.” Kukalaka dug the ground nervously, but allowed Julian to approach and pet his snout. Julian kept shushing, and waved a hand at Jadzia.

“Help me get him up.” Jadzia was already there, reaching to support Garak as Julian let go.

“You have to go up first, then pull him up.” She instructed, “I’ll hold him and give him to you.”

The dragon hissed and kicked when Jadzia tried to pull him away, clinging to Julian’s shirt and nearly yanking him off the horse. Kukalaka lost his nerve again, trying to back away as Garak’s still strong tail swept at his legs, and hit Dax hard enough to make her groan.

“Garak!” Julian tried to shush him while also holding Kukalaka still, “Please, it’s okay--”

“Listen!” Jadzia growled, not unlike a dragon, and shook Garak by his arms, “You’ll ride on the back of my horse like cheap luggage if you don’t calm down for a second.”

Garak stopped fussing at once, though he still let out low hissy noises whenever Jadzia touched him, a furious glare aimed from under his brow. Julian quickly swung himself on the saddle and pulled Garak up before he’d claw Jadzia’s face off, whispering gentle nonsense to keep him calm. He burrowed his face in Julian’s collar, bare legs dangled down the left side, his body awkwardly twisted so their chests were pressed together. It wouldn’t be comfortable for the two hour journey ahead, but the dragon’s grip around him was tight and demanding.

“There’s nothing to fear,” Julian stroked down Garak’s back, arranging the cloak so it covered as much of Garak as possible, “You’re safe with me.”

Kukalaka shook his head and whickered. Julian shushed him, and with an arm securely around Garak, ordered him forward with a gentle squeeze of his legs.

They rode at an even pace, Julian careful to not jostle Garak too much. His distress, while difficult, made sense; dragons never depended on the mercy and aid of others, were never forced to cling onto safety on the back of another beast, least of all the kind you usually ate.

As they got closer to the palace, Julian turned to Jadzia.

“Ride ahead. Make sure there’s a hot bath prepared in my quarters, and a medical case, but no doctor. I don’t want anyone seeing him yet.”

Jadzia gave a curt nod and urged Tigan to a full gallop.

It took an hour and a half for them to arrive. Garak stayed still the whole way, silently trembling against Julian, claws piercing through his coat. To Julian’s dismay, several guards, and his mother waited at the back gates, gasping at the sight of his bloodied form. He wrapped his scarf to cover Garak’s face, though there was nothing to be done to the very visible tail.

“Jules…” Amsha’s eyes trailed the blood in horror, hand over her heart, “You’re hurt-”

“It’s not mine.” Julian jumped off Kukalaka, gesturing for a guard to take care of him once Garak had slid back into his arms. He pushed through the small crowd, ignoring his mother’s pleas and the wide-eyed stares.

There were people in the corridors of course, everyone turning to stare and cry out after him as he hurried past.

“Your highness!” A slow, precise serpent like voice shot through the air, “What is this creature? Have they injured you?”

Shiver of disgust ran down Julian’s back. He picked up his pace and turned right, toward his quarters. Carrying Garak made his steps slow. Too slow. Sloan easily cut his path, dull blue eyes looking at Garak’s tail with curiosity.

“Have you been hunting, your highness?” Sloan slid his eerily indifferent gaze up to Julian’s eyes, “Rather unusual game you’ve caught.” Julian held Garak closer to his chest, the dragon’s weak breaths hot against his neck.

“I don’t have time for your nonsense.” He whispered, “Move aside.”

“The Queen Mother is in quite a state. Perhaps your excellency should go back and console her,” Sloan clicked his tongue at Julian’s ruined attire, “After a change of clothes. I and my guard will gladly look after your ward while- Ungh!”

Sloan was yanked back by his shirt. Jadzia emerged from the shadows behind him, released her grip and stepped between him and Julian, hand tightening around the hilt of her sword.

“Everything is under control,” She smiled pleasantly, “I will personally assist the prince with anything he needs.”

“Captain Dax,” Sloan adjusted his wrinkled collar with a dry scoff, “Never too far, are you?”

“I am very good at my job.” Annoyance flashed in Sloan’s eyes, his jaw tight. Julian stepped closer.

“At ease, Counsellor,” He said, “Your expertise isn’t needed.”

The tip of Garak’s tail wound around Julian’s arm. Sloan glanced at the gesture and back at Julian, tongue sliding to the corner of his mouth in thought. With a small smile he bowed, stepping aside. Julian’s smile and nod were equally sincere as he walked away, head held high even though his heart pounded. He’d be a problem later, no doubt. Jadzia stayed behind, to scare Sloan off enough to keep him away awhile. Few metres away from his bedroom Jadzia caught up with them, matching her step with his.

“Thank you.” He whispered. Jadzia winked and raced ahead to open the door.

“I’ve done all you asked,” She said, “Go. I’ll guard the door.”

Julian nodded, too grateful for words, and carefully guided Garak through so he’d not hit his feet or head. He heard Jadzia close the door behind them as he lowered Garak to sit on his bed, and went to lock it, prying the tail off his wrist.

“Okay,” He hurried back to the bed, kneeled before Garak and looked up at him, “I’d like to check for any injuries, but it’s difficult to see with all the blood, so you’ll need to have a bath first. It’ll warm you up, too.”

Garak didn’t respond, clutching the cloak to him, eyes cast down.

“Please say something.” Julian caressed a blood covered cheek and smiled through his broken voice, “Can you still talk? Would you try at least? Please, just one word. Garak?”

The dragon, or man as he now seemed to be, stayed still, head hung low and framed with dried lumps of dark hair. Sorrow came upon Julian, cold as the mist had been in the field of dead soldiers, travelling through his bones and burrowing deep into them.

War was over. They’d rode home at last, victorious, dead eyes of those who fell watching their every step, reaching through the mist to grab a hold, so they too could go home. So many he’d failed. Was this his punishment, to see the lifeless gaze now in Garak’s beautiful eyes, the smell of his blood burning Julian’s nose. And it had been Garak, who’d won for them. His knowledge, his help.

With a light peck to Garak’s forehead Julian left to check the bath, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows. The water steamed. Julian dipped his fingers in and let out a silent hiss; too hot for humans. Hopefully perfect for a dragon.

“Shall I carry you again?” He asked, grinning at Garak from across the room, “You seemed to not mind it.”

Garak’s head bowed lower. His grip off the cloak eased, and with a shaky inhale, Garak pushed himself up, swaying a little, but not falling. All was well for a moment. Then he tried to walk. One small, shuffling step forward and Garak panicked, knees buckling. The cloak slipped off as Garak fell, straight into Julian’s arms.

“Oomph!” He laughed a little, hugging Garak to him as they gained their balance, “Careful, there.” Garak’s tail found his arm again, pitifully clinging on. Julian kept his gaze politely fixed above Garak’s head and picked him up into his aching arms, trying to soothe the embarrassed creature, “Don’t worry. You’ll get the hang of it, once you’re warmed up.”

The dragon went into the tub calmly, a small sigh leaving the grey lips. Immediately the water turned pink. Julian looked around, frowning; he had a basket somewhere, with flannels, a sponge and a silver comb. Where, where, where…

On his bed, clearly left there for him to easily see. He went to grab it, taking a low wooden stool with him as well. Sat by the tub, Julian drenched the flannel in the water and gently began washing the caked blood off Garak’s face. Garak’s eyes fluttered shut as he sank deeper into the water, tail swaying. Julian smiled, pleased.

“Not too, bad, right?”

The water rippled, Garak’s huffy scoff making small bubbles in the water. He kept a keen, narrowed eye fixed on Julian as he washed his arms, and wiggled his cleaned fingers in amazement. Next were his legs and feet, which Julian took care to massage meticulously, digging his thumbs deep into the arches to coax out any pain or tension. Sweat formed over his brow as he worked, the steam getting to him, not helped by Garak’s unrelenting stare.

Once done with all the limbs, tail included, Julian moved to the other end of the tub. He balanced the comb on his lap and gave Garak’s back a gentle push.

“Lean forward.” Garak complied. The blood on his back had soaked off mostly, easily cleaned off, revealing rougher scales. When he moved to rub the neck and shoulders, Garak let out a low, growly noise, water splashing on the floor as he shimmied.

“Sorry. I’ll be more careful.” So far he hadn’t seen any wounds or bruises, so he checked the raised row of ridges carefully, running his fingers over them, pressing to see if anything hurt. Garak’s eyes fell shut, the water splashing along with the sway of his tail.

“Does this hurt?” Garak shook his head ferociously, and yanked Julian’s hand back onto his neck, not letting go until his finger kneaded again. Julian smiled in relief and amusement; Demanding as always.

He made Garak dip the opposite direction to soak all of his hair. A few knots awaited beneath the blood and grime; Most he was able to comb out but two were so tangled and matted that he decided to cut them off, grimacing as he did. Garak didn’t seem to notice or care, his pleased little hums warming Julian’s heart.

The water was red by the time he finished.

“Alright,” Julian wiped off the sweat and left the basket on the stool for Garak to easily reach, “I’ll go change. You can finish rest on your own, I think?” Meaning Julian wasn’t about grope a traumatized dragon man under the guise of care, no matter how enticingly his tail swayed. Garak blinked and reached for the sponge, turning it over in his hands. He smirked, and locked eyes with Julian as his hand vanished under the red water with it, down his chest and lower.

Julian followed the descend, mouth hanging open. He didn’t breathe until Garak made a noise. A soft sigh, perfectly innocent. Julian’s inhale was a loud wheeze, and with a horrified glance at Garak, he fled behind the vanity screen, blood pounding through his body.

“Stop it,” He hissed to himself, eyes squeezed shut. Jadzia brows waggled in his mind, insufferably smug and knowing. What right did she have, accusing him of _consorting_ when she’d had an affair with a goblin of all creatures. The thought alone made Julian shudder, perfect for banishing any lower stirrings.

His morning attire was still hung over the screen. Julian stripped off the ruined ones and put them on, relieved to finally be rid of the stench of blood filling his every breath. He waited a few minutes before having a little peek to see if Garak was done yet. The sponge was back in the basket, Garak sitting still in the tub, waiting. He noticed Julian, and squeezing the tub’s edges as he rose on his own. Julian quickly offered a hand and held Garak’s as he stepped out of the tub, and dripped red water dripped over the stone floor.

“Wait a moment,” There was a distressed hiss as Julian released his hold to fetch the pitcher from his nightstand. He tossed his bloodied coat and trousers on the floor, had Garak stand on them, and poured the water over him to wash away the red, most of the mess caught in his clothes. Garak bared his teeth at the sudden cold, and grabbed Julian by his shirt, glaring like an offended cat.  

Julian left his poor dragon to shiver so he could grab a large towel. He held it open and nodded for Garak to come hither. Garak scoffed, still peeved, but stepped into it with shaky legs, standing nervously still as Julian wrapped it around him.

“Knew you could do it.” Julian said, “In fact, I think you can walk to the bed,” He grabbed Garak’s hand and gave him an encouraging smile, “Come on.”

Other hand on Garak’s back, Julian guided him through each tentative step. Garak’s eyes stayed fixed on his feet till the very end, shaking a little as he sat on the bed. Julian left him there to retrieve a night shirt for Garak to wear. He chose a simple cotton one, hoping it would fit, and threw it over his arm.

Garak was eyeing the cotton towel with a familiar glint, usually reserved for whatever finery Julian had worn. His silk sheets received the same subtle interest, the dragon’s greedy fingers stroking and pinching the dark blue fabric, the tip of his tail swaying in delight.

“Should I fear you’ll make a hoard of my closet and curtains?” asked Julian, brow arched in amusement. Garak’s admiring gaze snapped to him, a barely there grin curving his lip. Julian was struck still; It was a little frightening, how similar his face had remained, down to his mischievous smirk and clever eyes. Comforting, too. The heated look that trailed over him made Julian’s neck burn, thoughts of consorting bubbling up again. He shoved those aside, clearing his throat and put the cotton nightshirt on the bed.

“This is for you. It’ll be a bit large I imagine, but it’ll do for the night at least. I’d lend you something nicer, but I’m not sure any of them would be comfortable. So just try it on and uhh… Uhm.”

Garak had thrown the towel aside, crawling rather gracefully across the large bed toward the shirt, and in a way, toward Julian. He picked it up and sat, crossing his legs. Julian closed his eyes and backed away, hopefully toward the door.

“Yeah, you uhh.. Do that. I’ll- I’ll go get something to eat. Be right back!” Julian slammed the door shut, and turned around with a sigh, only to let out a high pitched squawk at the sight of evil eyes, glimmering only inches from his face.

“How is he?” asked Jadzia, voice short of a vigourous brow waggle.

“Fine. He’s fine.” He is very naked, thought Julian, blinking the image away before Jadzia plucked it from him with her knowing gaze.

“I was just going to get him some food.”

“You know you’re wearing your shirt wrong way round.” Julian glanced down and groaned. There was no hiding from her, each attempt more embarrassing than the previous.

“Thanks.” He muttered, quickly swirling his shirt so the back was facing where it was supposed to. Jadzia gave a mocking bow, hand over her chest.

“So,” She glanced around the corridor for any eavesdroppers and leaned in, “How does a dragon turn into a…” Her hand made circles in the air, trying to pluck a fitting word from it, “...human?” Julian pinched between his brows and shrugged.

“No idea. He hasn’t said anything yet, I assume because of the trauma, but whatever did it had to intend harm.” He gulped at the memory of rotting flesh, ripped off to make Garak’s new shape. Such vicious magic would be agonizing.

“He had enemies,” Julian said, “Maybe even someone who knew of all the help he gave us. Garak’s so far away, it’s possible that whoever attacked didn’t know the war was over.”

“Or maybe they did,” said Jadzia quietly, “And wanted to leave a message.”

Julian’s brow furrowed from the thought. It was frightfully possible that Garak’s pain was his fault, meant to humiliate him and the realm, their greatest asset reduced from a proud beast to a struggling man. The thought was a dark one, and brought with it new ones, equally bleak. He’d often considered vengeance distasteful, a common argument between him and Garak, but already Julian imagined his judgement; An eye for an eye. Flesh and bone ripped apart, enough to keep them living, enough to make them confess, reverse the whatever dark curse they’d used. The thorn burned inside his chest; He wouldn’t use magic, of course. Magic could be undone. And that he wouldn’t allow.

Jadzia eyed him with concern. Julian took a deep breath and gave her a curt nod, voice low and serious.

“Once he’s well enough, I’d like to go back to his castle, see if there are any clues to what happened.”

“I’ll go with you.” She promised, then smiled. “But first, dinner. For all of us, I think.”

Jadzia ordered two of his mother’s guards to watch the door while they were away. Julian felt uneasy about trusting them, but Jadzia’s threat of severe repercussions if they disobeyed made their knees shake enough to convince him. Still they hurried to the kitchens, Julian grabbing anything he thought might be suitable for a dragon who also was a human. Within a few minutes he had a basket full of various treats for Garak and himself, and the chocolates he still had in the pouch. Jadzia watched his whirlwind of theft from a counter, on which she sat eating cheese and apple slices, a sip of wine taken between every bite.

As they made their way back, Julian told Jadzia to go rest and get someone else to guard through the night. She begrudgingly agreed, after Julian caught her hiding a yawn, and left to get a replacement she deemed more suitable than his mother’s lackeys. He ordered one of them to fetch him a fresh pitcher of water as he waited by the door, afraid to leave it unguarded even for a second.

Water came first, left by his feet by a nervous young man, stuttering under Julian’s suspicious glare. He left quickly, nearly bumping into someone approaching from the corridor. To Julian’s surprise and horror, it was Major Kira who appeared, with a large sword swung over her back.

“Major,” He swallowed and nodded a greeting, “I am so sorry to inconvenience you-”

“It’s fine,” Her smile was tight and aggravated, as it often was when dealing with him, “I won’t breathe a word of whatever your highness is hiding, as a thank you for all the help with my people. But just this once, and mostly because I hold Captain Dax in high regard, alright?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t expect anything else,” He reached behind his back for the door latch, awkwardly balancing the basket and pitcher, “Thank you, have a good night!”

With a hurried smile, Julian yanked the latch down and fled to his room, slammed the door shut and fell against it with an exhale. Kira sure could hold onto a grudge, though in this case he’d probably earned it.

“Garak? I’ve brought food. Chocolates, too.”

The room had run out of daylight during his absence. A single candle was lit on his nightstand, and under its soft glow was his poor dragon, deep asleep. He wore the shirt, and was now curled over the covers like a cat, all of the pillows piled around and under him into a nest like shape. Heart aching with sudden calm, Julian gently lowered the basket on a table and grabbed a bit of bread and cheese for himself. He ate on the sofa by the window, watching the bright night sky. Not a cloud in sight, and the moon still nearly full.

After the meal he went to quickly wash up, too tired for anything but cold water and a flannel. He shivered all the way through the ordeal and eyed his lovely tub, trying to evoke the feel of warm bath. The blood red water remained in it, and would until he found a way to let the servants in to clean it up. Perhaps he and Jadzia would manage, though if he intended for Garak to stay here he’d have to show him eventually, preferably before his mother broke the door down.

Arms around his trembling shoulders, Julian retrieved a nightshirt, much nicer than the one he’d given Garak. He slipped it on with a bit of guilt; The dragon surely would have appreciated the fabric more than he ever would.

With two blankets under his arm, one for him and one for Garak, Julian tiptoed to the bed, intending to spread the quilt over Garak and move onto the sofa. But once his eyes found the familiar patterned ridges they were transfixed; he sat on the bed and took in Garak’s new face and body, finally able to _look_.

Much was the same; the colour of his skin was still light grey, the shapes around his eyes exactly as Julian remembered them. And the lovely tail, hung over the edge of the bed, barely an inch from the floor.

The broad shoulders weren’t at all like before, nor was the way they continued down into strong arms. Julian’s hands tingled at the memory of the pleasant roughness he’d felt when washing them, how the scales had scratched his skin just the right way. The scaling of Garak’s hands had felt soft. No longer bird like, but shaped like a human’s, as were his feet, sharp, black claws growing on each. Dark hair, long and shiny, spilled over the sheets like a tempting trail of ink. Quite different from the spikey fur he’d had as a dragon. Julian had found that soft as well, and pleasant to comb his fingers through.

Julian bit his lip, stomach fluttering. So Dragons made for bewitching men. And there was the question; Who made him? Who would rob a dragon of his wings, leave him shivering in his own blood to watch as rest of him rotted. Boiling anger rose up to Julian’s cheeks at the thought of them still walking in the world, unpunished. But he would find them. All would paid for in equal measure, and Garak’s body restored.

Julian followed along the black strands on the pillow with his fingertip, a single thorn piercing his heart, a reminder of his vow.

“I’ll find a way to fix this,” He whispered, “I promise.”

He stood and laid the blanket over Garak, then blew out the candle. Quietly he made his way to the sofa under the window and settled into it with a small groan. Not very comfortable, he had to admit, but he’d live. 

Soon the exhaustion took over, and he slipped into the warm unknown of dreaming, where Garak waited, in his cozy library, summer sun bright in Julian’s eyes as he lay in a nest of a thousand cloths. The dragon spread his wing over Julian, to shield him from the burning heat, and let him trace the thin blood vessels that shone through, leisurely licking his hair.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of amazing Dragon Garak and Prince Julian art over at Tumblr. This was pretty much inspired by all of them. Here are some links to a few masterpieces: [By agrippaspoleto](http://agrippaspoleto.tumblr.com/post/179692638085/a-very-late-garashir-week-day-7-fairy-tale-au-a), [anna-lord](http://anna-lord.tumblr.com/post/127384479290/sudden-au-feels) and [chekov-and-hobbes](http://chekov-and-hobbes.tumblr.com/post/159556556687/princes-need-dragons)


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